


Love Came Down At Christmas

by Jac_Danvers



Category: Lost
Genre: AU from Season 4, Christmas, F/M, Ghosts, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Romance, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jac_Danvers/pseuds/Jac_Danvers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of a Christmas Carol staring Sayid and three very special ghosts. The holidays can be a difficult time for an assassin whose world is falling down around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Lost or A Christmas Carol. They are born from minds quite more intelligent and creative than mine. The title of this story comes from a quote by poet Christina G. Rossetti.
> 
> This story was written for DiorNicole as part of the Lost Secret Santa Fic Exchange back in 2008. Although I haven’t heard from her in a few years, she was one of my dearest reviewers in the Lost fandom- we bonded over mutual Shayid love- and really gave me the inspiration for this story. 
> 
> This story was written after the fourth season of Lost, so it is AU to seasons 5 and 6. The writing style of this chapter draws strongly from A Christmas Carol, though it goes back to a more “normal” style in the next. I hope you enjoy it!

Miles Straume was angry to begin with. Of that, there can be no doubt whatsoever. His petulant scowls and snapping did nothing to ease the frayed nerves of a very frightened Juliet, nor did they serve to ease the tension that existed between Locke and Sawyer. The departure of those particular six from the island, especially of the Iraqi, had all but removed the target on his back. And though he should be grateful that infernal dart board was gone, he found that it allowed him only to be miserable…

Move the island they said! With the mindset of a skeptic, he laughed and agreed to stay. Now that Keamy's little pals were dead, and Keamy himself was missing in action, what the hell was wrong with a little adventure? Besides, how could they  _possibly_  move an island? That in and of itself seemed to be the most asinine phrase he'd ever heard uttered.

"We have to move the island!"

 _Right_.

Well they had, dear reader, much to the amazement of Miles Straume. Those two old bastards- one crazier than the other- had disappeared into the depths of the jungle and managed to move an entire friggen island. Miles had yet to figure out where they were, or just how the mechanism of island moving worked. But he certainly felt, deep in his bones, that they were in a different locale in time or in space, despite the fact that there was no actual proof.

This leads me to point out again, quite explicitly, that Miles Straume was angry. For not one member of their party had bothered to mention that, when the island moved, he'd lose his powers to seek out the dead. His one livelihood, gone.

Likely, in the real world, this would have been a disappointment, but not a problem. The gullible would have continued to supply him amusement (and cash), seeking answers from those who lay in a world far beyond to problems in the world they'd once inhabited. But here on this island, where the tiny blonde Australian woman bawled over her lost baby and the mad scientist rambled on about the space-time continuum, a man needed some form of entertainment.

Three forms, actually- of spirits, that is. The island had been a veritable dearth of spirits when he arrived. They spoke of some group… something about the Dharma, Karma… whatever. Half had been hippies, too tripped out on LSD to be of any use, the other half had been scientists, whose unintelligible murmurings would have only been of any use to Faraday.

Amazing how in death, these spirits reflected so well their forms in life.

It was by pure chance that he found these particular three, and with their discovery, his newest form of entertainment had been born. The first was a quiet woman, almost timid. Her voice was soft when she spoke, but conveyed a depth and strength far beyond her thirty-something years. Miles was nearly certain she'd never been on the island before her death.

Next, there was the Hispanic woman, strong in a different way than the first. Her face expressed deep loss, personal tragedy. Her demeanor was quite the opposite. Tough, and not willing to deal with anyone who didn't see things her way, she spent most of her time bickering with the third woman.

Oh yes, the third. Leggy. Blonde. Indescribably hot. ( _If only she wasn't dead…_  ) Any other person would toss her aside as another Paris-Nicole-Lindsey-something-or-other. Yet there was something more there, something good. ( _And those legs…)_ She argued constantly with the Hispanic woman, something about the jungle, and a gun, and a kid named Walt.

Eavesdropping in on the conversations and arguments between the three had provided Miles the much needed entertainment and escape required to get by. Now they were gone and Miles was angry. And to top it all off, according to the count being maintained by Rose, it was three days before Christmas. What a way to spend the holidays- pining for three dead chicks.

Alas, dear reader, it is not poor Miles's fate in which our interests lie. Even so, it is in his anger our story begins.

For far beyond the island, another man lived- no, existed- filled with much more anger than Straume, and despair beyond mend. A man in need of rescue, possibly even more so than the denizens of the moving island.

Because once, he too had known the island. He had known the spirits.

And once, Sayid Jarrah knew how to love.


	2. Misery's Premonition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: There's some violence in this chapter. Not too graphic, but I feel like a warning is justified.

In the outskirts of Milwaukee, on the classier side of town, one house stood out from the rest.

That isn't to say it was unique in any fashion. The red brick, split-level home was well groomed, with neatly trimmed bushes lining the path to the door and creating a sort of fence around the yard. Fashionable draped curtains embellished each window, revealing comfortable furniture and hard wood floors. A swing set built of weather-worn pressure treated lumber stood in the backyard, waiting for grandchildren to play upon it.

Yet, there was something off about the entire ambiance of the house. Perhaps it was the empty garbage can at the end of the driveway three days after trash pickup, or the pile of newspapers that was quickly forming, or the five inches of snow that had not been shoveled from the porch. Alec Demain's home would have caught the eye of any careful observer.

Three days had passed since he'd made an appearance outside his home. Mr. Groves, two houses down, had watched him park his Benz on Friday evening, unlock the door, and turn on the lights.

The lights were gone now, and Demain had not reappeared.

The quasi-disappearance of Alec Demain might have been questioned, if he hadn't been such a cynical, ornery bastard that had alienated his neighbors. A geneticist, and a radical geneticist at that, he'd nearly killed half the cul-de-sac with a gene splicing project gone awry. Not to mention the numerous government personnel keeping tabs on him, constantly treading across their freshly cut lawns.

Had his neighbors taken the time to investigate, they would have found that good old Alec was at home. But no one checked.

And that was precisely was Benjamin Linus was counting on.

o O o

"I told you! I don't know anything about Widmore!" Demain screamed, writhing on his basement floor, still attached to the chair he’d been tied to who knows how long ago. A pained gasp escaped him as he received a swift kick to the stomach. Bloody and bruised, he would have been unrecognizable to his own family.

Swiftly, Sayid Jarrah picked him up by the collar, knowing inherently that he looked intimidating in dim light that streamed from the lone bulb in the ceiling. To him, this felt different than it had in Iraq. There was no guilt here- he no longer had the capacity to _feel_ guilt.

This was business, the sole purpose of his existence.

"You worked for the Dharma Initiative. I know you sold out to Widmore. I want the story. Now."

"I've held out this long, what makes you think I'll say anything new now?" Demain struggled against his bindings, just as he had twelve hours ago, when this interrogation began. Sayid braced himself, holding the old man firm. He could see the matted blood in his white hair, the swollen skin that had puffed up, nearly hiding his eyes.

_Respect your elders, Sayid_. Nadia's voice resonated through his mind. It seemed so long ago…

_Don't think about that anymore, Sayid. That's once upon a time now._

"I know where your ex-wife is, and your children. If you do not tell me what Widmore knows, I am sure I can get the information I want out of them." His voice never wavered from the calm tone. Devoid of emotion, devoid of feeling, devoid of anything but the desire to obtain information.

"You wouldn't," Demain gasped, making a feeble attempt at a headbutt.

"Watch me," he replied with a final shake, watching the man's head rattle back and forth like a bobble-head doll.

"FINE! I slipped the Dharma secrets to Widmore. I created the poison that should have killed the Hostiles, and the Initiative. We were supposed to take 'em all out in one shot. And I was the one who paid the price when Ben took over. It's was the seventies, he promised me drugs and women- why the hell would I refuse? And you know what? That son-of-a-bitch never paid up! Are you happy now? Are you gonna leave my family alone?"

"Quite happy," Sayid muttered, slowly processing the information. "And your family will be fine. You on the other hand…" He held the gun steady, the weight in his hand nearly nonexistent. It was all too familiar a presence, the steal eternally warm in his palm. "Any last wishes?"

"It's Christmas, you stupid bastard. Have some pity," Demain begged, his eyes widening.

"That means nothing to me," he heard himself calmly reply. Pulling the trigger without hesitance, he watched the bullet enter Demain's chest. Twenty seconds passed, thirty. Sayid watched as the man twitched, struggling for air. It was surrealistic, an out of body experience.

Then there was no more movement, and the basement was still for the first time in hours. The gun slipped from his hand, clattering against the ground. As he observed the carnage surrounding him, he tried to remind himself that there was a purpose. This was for revenge, and to protect those who remained.

_You are insignificant. You are nothing. Happiness is impossible, survival is all._

_What have I done?_

"What you had to do, Sayid." Ben answered the question, strolling down the stairs into the basement. Sayid was certain he had not asked the question aloud, but with Ben, one could never be sure of that.

_Typical. No phone call, no e-mail, he just knows that the job is done. How the hell does he do this?_

"What do you want now?" he replied with frustration, running a hand through his hair. He shuddered at the sweaty dampness that had accumulated over the last hours.

"To make sure the job got done." Ben adjusted his glasses as he stared at the corpse, still leaking blood onto the cellar floor. A dark red pool had formed, moving towards their feet. Kneeling down, Ben picked up the gun and returned it to Sayid.

"It always does. I have not failed you yet." Silence fell over the room. Sayid couldn't wait longer. He needed to know.

"Who is next?"

Ben looked puzzled. "It's Christmas, Sayid. Even Widmore takes a break on Christmas."

"This is why we should keep moving. Take him by surprise while he's distracted. Think of the ground we could gain."

_Don't make me think about the past_ , he added silently. Every inch of the home he and Nadia owned was filled with memories, and when he wasn't there, he would find himself thinking of Shannon on the island, basking in the sunlight as she tanned…

_Not anymore. Never that._ It was easier to kill than to dwell on the past.

"We will resume after Christmas," Ben said firmly.

"Oh yes, like you have something to go home to. You never had anything or anyone!" Sayid growled, angry that he would be left to remember. .

"Someone's irritable," Ben mocked, moving back up the stairs where he had entered.

"Yes, indeed. Bah humbug," he muttered sarcastically in return. This was absolutely ridiculous.

"No more until after Christmas, Sayid. I suggest you go home and pull yourself together." Ben climbed the stairs into the upstairs hall.

_No, he is not leaving that easily!_ He bounded up the stairs behind him, but found the house still and abandoned. Ben was gone. _Every damn time._

o O o

The shower was tempting, as he walked into his Los Angeles home after the three hour flight. Though he had bathed at a hotel in Milwaukee, the feeling of blood soaking through his clothes had not yet left, making his skin crawl. Not to mention the constant heat the California sun seemed to beat down on him- he felt unclean.

Sayid was more distracted, however, by the flashing red light of the answering machine. _Now what? More telemarketers? Just what I need._ Preparing himself for the unique hell of listening to droning sales pitches, he pressed the play-all button.

"Sayid? Sayid, I know you are there, please pick up." The voice was light, with a heavy accent, and clearly frustrated. "It's Sun. I know you’re there. Please Sayid, stop ignoring my calls. I _know_ what you are going through. Believe me, I know better than anyone. Do you think it is easy going on without Jin? To raise Ji Yeon without her father? You cannot isolate yourself. We're all in this together- every one of us. And we need to know… I need to know, that you are not going to do something stupid."

"That is beside the point. I did not call to berate you. I will be in California with Ji Yeon. Desmond and Penny have invited all of us to take Christmas dinner with them on the boat. I have spoken to Jack and Kate; I'm worried about them. I think little Walt may even come. He needs someone to watch over him now… Please come, or at least let Hurley know. He would not take my call. Sayid, we need to be together. Live together, die alone, right?"

The answering machine beeped, and was then silent. He felt the anger growing with in him. _What right does she have? What gives her the right to say I am a danger to myself, that I should move on from my grief? I have lost both of the women I loved; she lost her half-estranged husband. How dare she—_

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He took a deep breath, calming himself down. "Hello?"

"Thank God!" the woman's voice sighed, clearly relieved. "Sayid, it's Kate, thank God I reached you. I need your help."

"Kate, I-"

"It's Jack, he's drinking again, heavily. And I found pills in his bag, vicodin. He doesn't have a vicodin prescription.” Her voice grew more frantic by the second. “He keeps traveling between here and Thailand, hoping the plan will crash. I think he's sleeping with another woman there. Sayid, I don't know what to do! I'm afraid he'll do something to Aaron,that he'll take him away from me. My baby is sick, and Jack wants to take him away from me! Oh God, Sayid you can't let him do that!" Her voice broke into a sob.

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" he asked coldly. He wanted nothing to do with that life anymore. They were rescued, free from the island, while Shannon's corpse rotted in a desert tomb, waiting for a proper memorial. What right did they have to complain?

"I just… I was just hoping that you would talk to him. Please, he's always listened to you, Sayid. We need you now!"

"He's your problem now Kate. You chose this life. No one chose it for you."

"You… you can't do that! Live to—"

"ENOUGH! Enough with that insipid phrase! We're all on our own now, Kate! This isn't the island anymore. This is the real world. You and Jack need to get out of your little delusion. Aaron isn't your son, he is Claire's child. Jack needs rehab, not another trip to Thailand. And you, Kate. Someone is going to see through your lies one day, and everything we've worked for will be destroyed. I hope you'll be happy then!"

Slamming the phone down, he grabbed the keys to his car from the side table, hoping a drive would clear his mind. As he left the house, he didn't bother to lock the door- what did it matter? Seating himself in the red corvette, he pulled out of the driveway, and pressed down on the gas. Hard.

Sun's message had mostly left his mind when he found himself pulling up the long driveway to the Santa Rosa Mental Health Institute, where Hurley resided. Though he had already made the decision not to attend the little Christmas festivities- he'd never celebrated before anyway, and, really, what was there to celebrate?- it would be unfair of him not to inform his good-natured friend.

Shutting the door of the car, he braced himself to face the past once more.

o O o

"Dude, seriously?" Hurley asked, moving his knight to take out the pawn of his opponent. "Three of them?"

"Oh most definitely mate!" Charlie replied casually, swiftly retaliating with the queen taking the knight. "Three of them, tonight. Sayid's going to be stopping by in, oh, like ten minutes. You've got to pass the message on to him. Give him a bit of a heads up!"

"But why? Sayid's one of the good guys!"

Charlie smiled, running a hand through his already messy blonde hair. "I think he needs a bit of a reminder of that. He's losing himself, mate. Losing his perspective. And he's going to need it very soon. All of you will."

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough!" Charlie laughed, moving his queen again. "Checkmate."

Hurley looked down on the board is disbelief. Looking up, he found that Charlie was gone.

"Hurley!" Sayid had entered through the sliding glass door from the activity room, the pretty, red-haired nurse showing him the way. He saw the other man squint in the harsh sunlight- it seemed to be perpetually sunny here in Santa Rosa. Not that it bothered him. There had been too much rain on the Island.

"Hey dude! You just missed Charlie!" Ushering Sayid into the formerly occupied seat, he watched the look of disbelief pass over his face. "What's up? You don't come here as often as you used to."

"I… I just want to pass on some news to you. If you can get out for the day, Desmond and Penny will be docked in San Francisco on Christmas Eve, and you are invited to join them. Sun will be there with the baby, as well as Kate and the others."

"You going, dude?" he asked.

"No, I will not be. I do not wish to live in the past." Hurley could see that Sayid was lost in his grief, bringing some sense to Charlie's words. He was twitching, shifting about, clearly uncomfortable.

"That's all?"

"That is all. I must… I must return home now. I had a long weekend. Good-bye." Sayid stood, beginning to walk away.

"Dude! Dude wait!"

"What is it Hurley?" Sayid asked impatiently. _He was never like this on the island. Never like this before Nadia and Shannon._

"When Charlie was here, he gave me a message I had to pass on to you."

"Hurley, I don't think…"

Sick of not being taken seriously, Hurley didn't even allow Sayid to start giving his opinion. "No. You're going to listen this time. Charlie said that you're losing perspective. That if you don't realize that you're falling apart in your grief and anger, that we're all doomed. Three ghosts are going to visit you on Christmas Eve, to make sure you don't keep going down this path."

"You are joking," he replied, tense.

"Dude, Charlie said so!"

"It's a hallucination Hurley! A damned hallucination! There are no ghosts, and there is no Charlie!" With that, he left, pushing aside another patient in his anger.

As he watched him leave, Hurley though he would be upset at Sayid's anger, but he couldn't be. This was not the man he had known and grown to admire on the island. This was a wholly different person, completely broken down.

"He didn't buy it, did he?" he heard Charlie ask.

"Nope."

"Well, we'll see how he feels on Christmas Day," Charlie replied with a smirk. "Up for another round?"

"Most definitely!"


	3. The Love of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot I started transferring this story over from FF.net! Here's hoping it's completely moved by Christmas (I mean, it is a Christmas story, after all!). Hope you enjoy this oldie (written Christmas 2008) but (hopefully) goodie. Bold lettering is all flashbacks!

Rubbing a red towel through his thick hair, Sayid stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom. Ever since he'd gotten back from the island, and especially since he'd started working for Ben, he’d found a new appreciation for long, hot showers. He knew that Shannon would have appreciated this realization. Too bad Ana Lucia had ensured he'd never have the opportunity to tell her.

_ You can't blame Ana. This all goes back to Ben. Ben is the reason Shannon is dead, _ he reminded himself. A second thought sent him into even greater despair. _What would she say if she knew you were working for him? Taking orders from the man who killed her?_

Wiping stray drops of water from his torso, he forced Shannon out of his mind to think of much more important matters. Namely, Hurley. How had they not noticed that he was crazy? Speaking to the dead, ranting about cursed numbers. Sayid prided himself on being observant- it was the entire purpose of his job in the National Guard- yet, for over two months, he had not noticed Hurley's insanity.

And now he was passing on premonitions from a very dead, very much drowned man? It was utterly ridiculous.

He quickly pulled on a pair of plaid pajama pants, tossing the towel on the floor next to the hamper. Cleanliness really wasn't his top priority anymore. Pulling down the bed covers, he realized he had not brushed his teeth. Turning back to the bathroom, he found himself unable to move, shocked at the sight before him.

At first, the ball of light was misshapen and without any permanent form. Like plasma, it rolled about shapeless. But soon hands took form, then legs, then a head. Familiar brown hair, neatly parted. Well-manicured facial hair.

"Remember Sayid," Boone said, strolling casually from the bathroom. An ethereal light surrounded the young man, who was dressed in casual khaki pants and a white button down shirt. "Remember that tonight you will be visited by three ghosts. Listen to them. It's time to come back from the depths."

"The depths of what?" Sayid heard himself ask. He knew Boone wasn't really there. This was a hallucination, a result of his exhaustion.

"Sayid, you were always the smart one on the island, as much as I'd prefer not to admit it. You know what depths you've fallen to. It's time to pull yourself out. Expect the first ghost at midnight, Sayid."

He blinked, and found that Boone was gone. _A hallucination. You've gone nearly three days without sleep, plus the exertion of interrogating Demain… it's a hallucination._

Quickly, he brushed his teeth. Returning to the other room, he carefully entered the bed, ensuring he did not lie on his wife's side. Though she was gone now and half the bed was unused, it seemed sacrilege to encroach on her spot.

With a sigh, he eased himself into bed, his body wasted from the interrogation and travel over last few days. He passed out as soon as his body relaxed under the sheets…

o O o

The mantle clock chimed midnight, resonating through the entire home. It seemed louder than usual, and Sayid found himself waking up with a start. As he counted each toll of the bell with bated breath, he laughed.

_ Really? Are you really taking Hurley's premonition seriously? That island sure did a number on you, my friend. _

Suddenly, he heard the front door slam, hard. Detangling himself from the covers, he grabbed his gun from the top drawer of the nightstand and walked slowly downstairs. He made no sound as he stealthily moved. From the top of the stairs, he saw that a light had been turned on in the living room.

Sayid wanted to cry out, to get the intruder's attention and distract him. But something deep inside prevented him from speaking, and he instead continued to make his way downstairs, using all his knowledge from his army days to remain silent.

With his back to the wall and his gun ready to shoot, he peaked around the corner. The light was too bright and he squinted hard to keep from being blinded. Taking a deep breath, he turned the corner, entering the room. "You are not welcome in my home. Leave, or I will shoot."

The light became brighter and brighter. Sayid was tempted to block his eyes with an arm, but he stayed vigilant, prepared to shoot the intruder.

Suddenly the light disappeared. "I didn't realize I was unwelcome in the home I purchased, Sayid."

The gun clattered to the floor. 

"Nadia?"

She didn't look like a typical angel. Beside the lights upon her arrival, she wasn't surrounded by the same ethereal light that encapsulated Boone. There were no halos or showers of gold. Her dark brown hair cascaded around her shoulders. She wore a pure white business suit, much like those that she wore under her lab coat at work. There was no sign of wound where the bullet had passed through her heart.

"Yes, Sayid. It is me. Though I do not go by Nadia very much anymore. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"You've got to be kidding me," he replied, feeling his heart break once over. He had lost Nadia once already. Now his exhausted, half broken mind was reminding him of how much he had lost. The beautiful woman, the one who had escaped tragedy and death, had returned, and he knew it was only to have her be ripped away again.

"Have you ever known me to kid, Sayid?"

"No, but—"

"Did you not receive the message from Hugo? We sent Boone too, we were sure he'd make it through to you."

"We?" he asked in disbelief, struggling to ascertain his situation. His dead wife was standing in the living room, having a conversation with him, claiming to be the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Well, yes, Sayid. Myself, and the Ghosts of Christmases Present and Future," her face remained serene as every implausible word passed her lips.

Shaking his head, he looked away. "This is a hallucination. Or some insane Charles Dickens's hell that Ben's mind games produced."

"Bah humbug, right?" she replied with a smirk. "I believe that's what you said last night. This isn't a mind trick, my love. Someone needs to remind you of why you're alive. What better time than now?"

"This… this isn't a dream?" he tried one last time, still holding out hope that he'd wake up alone, that Nadia's side of the bed would remain empty (even better, that he’d wake up in his bed and find Nadia alive and well, and that the past three months had never happened).

"No, Sayid, it isn't." She approached him, not truly walking. It was a more fluid movement, somewhere between gliding and floating. "Take my hand. It's time for you to see how good Christmas was to you in the past."

Throwing caution and sanity aside, he grabbed her small hand, holding it tightly as she pulled him away into nothingness.

o O o

They landed in a place more familiar to him than any other in the world. Arid and hot, the Tikrit of his childhood stood before him, his family's home looking just as it had all those years ago.

"Welcome home, Sayid," Nadia said softly, keeping his hand tightly in hers.

"What are we doing here? We never celebrated Christmas as children." He was puzzled.

** Suddenly, two young boys ran by him. The first he recognized, shockingly, as himself, at about twelve years old. Curly hair bounced as he ran, playing a game of tag with his younger brother, Hassim. **

"That doesn't mean that December twenty-fifth didn't happen. We may not have marked the day, but Christmas came every year," Nadia explained gentl.

** A third little boy, wearing cutoff pants and a red t-shirt came dashing out from behind a house. His smile was bright, his eyes were shining. "Can't catch me Sayid!" **

"That's Essam. Essam, Essam, I'm sorry!" he called out to the boy. He wanted to beg forgiveness for future wrongs, for betrayal, for causing his death. There was so much to apologize for, and now seemed to be an ample, fortunate chance.

"He can't hear you Sayid. None of them can. These are just glimpses of our past; we cannot change them at all. It's too late for that. But they can serve as reminders of the good times. What you can find again."

"It's too late for that Nadia," he replied, watching over the three boys at play.

"It is not. We had some of our best times at Christmas. Watch."

** The young Sayid tagged Essam, and quickly ensured he could not be it again by shouting out, "No tag backs!" **

** Essam was quickly off after Hassim in the opposite direction. Little Sayid kept running, prepared at any minute for Hassim to be “it” and to be the newest target. Unfortunately, he was not paying attention to where he was running, because he hit another moving object. **

** The little girl, who was about ten, had been standing in front of her house. Her father and mother were outside as well, chatting with their neighbors. Her dark brown hair peaked out from underneath the veil she wore. **

" **Sorry," the little boy said, offering his hand to her.**

** She gave him a small half-smile, turning around to see whether her father was watching. "It's alright. I wasn't paying attention either." She reached down to pick up the rope she had been skipping. "I'm Nadia, my family just moved to Tikrit. My father's job has changed." **

" **I'm Sayid. That's my brother Hassim over there. We live in the green house next door."**

** The little girl smiled a true smile this time. "I know. My father says that your father was a war hero. I feel lucky to live here." **

" **Well, I'm sure I'll see you another time, Nadia," he said quickly, ready to get back to his game.**

" **Aw, you can't just leave me here alone, Sayid. I need someone to talk to me. I'm bored."**

" **But… but…" The little boy had never been reduced to stuttering before.**

" **Please Sayid? Just until my mum and father are done."**

** He acquiesced without further begging. The two children continued talking of trivial things, things that concern only children. Favorite colors, favorite food, and life dreams all were shared in that brief conversation. All of a sudden, little Nadia said, "I must leave. My father is finishing his conversation. Can you meet me here at midnight?" **

" **That's not allowed!" Sayid said, scandalized.**

" **Come on Sayid. I like you. I want to be your friend. Please come?" Her innocence was evident in her voice, she was clearly unaware of the dangers that being found alone with a boy at midnight could result in.**

** Little Sayid thought hard as he made his decision. "Fine. I'll see you at midnight." **

"I remember this day," Sayid whispered to the ghost Nadia. "This was Christmas?"

"Who would have thought?" she replied with a gentle laugh. "I'd have to say it was pretty special day."

He nodded, not sure how to express the emotions within him. He didn't want to share them, because eventually he would wake up, and then he'd have to deal with Nadia's loss all over again. That was something he could not deal with.

"There's another day in our past, Sayid. Another event that took place in Tikrit on Christmas." This time Nadia grabbed his hand firmly, pulling him into the abyss.

o O o

When they emerged, it was dark, the stars clear and bright in the sky. The street looked the same, though the one or two cars some lucky neighbors owned were a newer model, and the green paint on his home was slightly chipped and faded.

** In the darkness, two figures, much taller than they used to be, moved in the shadows of the houses. **

"Is that…"

"Wait and see."

Sayid moved closer to the two figures, certain he knew what scene was about to play out in front of him. "This was…"

"I said to wait and see Sayid," Nadia repeated, leading him closer.

** In the shadows behind her house, teenaged Nadia was clearly upset, though no tears ran down her cheeks. She was too strong for that- she always had been. Nothing shook his strong willed friend. **

" **So that's it then? You're leaving for Cairo in the morning?" she asked.**

He remembered how he'd felt that day- he'd wanted her to understand why he had to leave. How else would he be able to make a life for himself, for her, once they married?

" **Yes. I leave at dawn with my father," he replied softly.**

" **And you'll be gone for four years?"**

" **Yes Nadia, four years!" he said, frustrated. It wasn't like he** ** _wanted_** **to leave her. "Why can't you see? I'm doing this for us! I want a life for us, together. I can't do that if I stay in Tikrit."**

** The younger Sayid grabbed Nadia's hands. "I swear, I'll come back for you. If it kills me, I will, and we can get married and live the life we've wanted. Together." **

" **Sayid," she sighed, softly. Her face was filled with regret, sadness. The older Sayid, the one that stood with the ghost Nadia, knew the words that would come next. "Sayid, I can't promise you I'll be here four years from now…"**

" **But…" Half of his conversations with this unpredictable woman would leave him stuttering. Yet, deep in his heart, he knew he would never change it. The shock was evident on his face. "Nadia, we always talked about…"**

" **I know we did. But Habib came to me last week. There's a movement, a revolution starting. Against Saddam Hussein and all the misery he has brought to our nation. Against the torture that the National Guard brings down upon our family and friends. Iraq must see a new day, Sayid. I will be leaving Tikrit within the year, if all goes as planned."**

Sayid watched as the young man's jaw dropped, remembering this moment distinctly. Wondering how Nadia had changed without him noticing. Their friendship, their courtship, their love- all had been in secret. It never occurred to him that she might have secrets from him as well.

" **Then I will join you," young Sayid insisted. "We will fight together!"**

" **We both know you won't Sayid. You are loyal. Your heart and brain allies you with your father." She hesitated before speaking again. "Our paths diverge tonight, Sayid."**

" **I suppose they do," he replied softly.**

"Fight for her, damn it!" Sayid shouted. He wanted to hit his younger self until the boy realized what he was doing. "You idiot!"

** Young Sayid reached out, cupping Nadia's face in his palm. The girl inched closer, her eyes actively searching the shadows around them, ensuring that no one was nearby to see their next move. Leaning in, Sayid captured her lips, kissing her sweetly. Holding each other until they were breathless. **

** Then, with sadness in his eyes, he pulled away. Leaning down he whispered, "You will see me in the next life, if not in this one." **

** Backing away quickly, he ran into his house. Within seconds, Nadia returned to her own. **

"Why would you show me this?" Sayid demanded. "This brings back only painful memories. How many times must I lose you, Nadia? How many times must I watch myself lose you?"

"This memory isn't supposed to be painful, Sayid. I realized, that night, that I loved you. The last words you spoke to me, they stayed with me longer than you realize. Every night in the desert, with Habib and Essam and the others, I thought over those words. I wrote them on the picture I gave you. And as painful as that night was, I would relive it a thousand times to remember what I felt the moment I realized I loved you."

Sayid knew not how to respond to what Nadia said. He didn't need to, though.

"We have one more memory, Sayid." Grasping her hand, he prepared for the familiar feeling of being sucked away.

o O o

This place was different. He recognized the city. It was Los Angeles, and according to the old newspaper fluttering across the streets, it was only five years ago. Together, he and Nadia stood outside the Los Angeles County Performing Arts Center.

"Nadia, I don't understand…"

"Follow me," she replied, leading him up the stairs into the building. They moved through the foyer, and stood in the back of the large auditorium. "Watch."

** On stage, a young, blonde woman, lithe and thin, danced across the stage on point. She was graceful, a true ballerina. She wore a pink gown and a tiara in her hair. Tchaikovsky's music resonated through the hall, the acoustics enhancing the glorious music. The blonde pirouetted, spinning and fluttering between Rat King and Nutcracker. **

Sayid felt his breath hitch in his throat. He knew who the girl on stage was. "Nadia, how did you know about Shannon?"

"She's a very sweet girl, once you get past the outer bitch," she replied with a smile. "Don't be stupid, Sayid. I knew there had to be other women, just as there were other men for me. We didn't think we'd ever see each other again. I didn't expect you to put your life on hold. You loved her, as you loved me. And I accept that. Love exists on many levels."

** As the performance ended, Shannon stepped to the front of the stage, a grin spread across her face. A few loose tendrils of hair that had fallen from the bun in her hair framed her face. **

"Come outside. There is more to see here." They waited outside the auditorium silently, until Nadia indicated he should look.

** Shannon came bouncing out from back stage. Her face was glowing with pride in her performance. She was searching the crowd, gently pushing people aside. Each minute that passed, her face became more and more disheartened. **

** She walked to the box office and tapped on the window. An elderly gentleman with a pleasant, red face opened it up. "What can I do for you, young lady?" **

" **I was wondering if there were any tickets that didn't get picked up. They'd be under the last name Rutherford."**

** The man flipped through the unclaimed envelopes. "Yes, I have three unclaimed tickets here." **

" **Thanks," Shannon replied walking away.**

"Her parents?" Sayid asked.

"Yes. Mrs. Rutherford insisted her husband come out to a showing of new Vera Wang wedding gowns that night. Said it was much more important than any pathetic ballet recital. Her dad just went along with it."

Sayid felt anger rising within him. His Shannon, abandoned by those that were supposed to love her.

_ Just like you abandoned her on the island. How you abandoned Kate when she needed you today. _

The gravity of this conclusion hit him hard. Nadia's eyes revealed that she, too, knew of his revelation. "Come, I must bring you home before the next ghost arrives."

As she pulled him away, back into reality, he saw Shannon break the tiara into pieces, throwing them into the street as she sat on the steps of the Performing Arts Center waiting for a ride home.

o O o

Sayid landed on his bed; bouncing up a bit before he steadied himself. "Nadia?" he called out, wanting just a few more words with her, a chance to say one last goodbye.

"Not quite lover boy," a new, yet familiar, voice replied.


	4. The Gravity of the Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So to provide a reference, this was written just after season 4, when we still didn't know what happened after the island moved and Suliet wasn't yet cannon. So this is definitely definitely AU!

"Ana?" Sayid asked, not really shocked at this point. He'd just spent the last few hours (Or years, was it? He wasn't sure any more…) with his dead wife leading him through the scenes of their childhood romance, after all.

"Or the Ghost of Christmas Present. Take your pick," she replied, voice and eyes as hard as ever. Not even death could take away her tough demeanor. "You're not surprised to see me. I take it Nadia's already been through, right?"

"Yes, she just left… wait. How do you know Nadia?" Sayid was certain he'd never mentioned his wife around Ana Lucia. In the short time they'd been acquainted, the grief he felt over the loss of Shannon had far outweighed any thought of Nadia.

"Quality time in purgatory, Sayid. We may have died, but that doesn't mean Jacob's allowed our spirits to leave the island yet. And he certainly has no qualms about bringing other spirits to the island as well. Everyone has a mission. Charlie speaks to Hurley. Eko, Libby, that boy Boone, some guy… Scott or Steve or something. They're all there. Everyone has a purpose in the afterlife, Sayid. Saving your dumb, ungrateful ass happens to be mine."

_The island holds a purgatory for the dead? But then what of the living? Why were we there? And if all those who died on the island are there…_

"Ana ,what of Sha—"

She interrupted him impatiently. "Are we going to get on with this whole Christmas Present thing or not? We have places to go, 'celebrations' to see. We're wasting time. The night's nearly over, and if I don't get back in time to harass that annoying know-it-all teacher, I'll be sorely disappointed."

Now Sayid was shocked. "Did you just make a joke?"

"I'm dead. No way I can change the things I fucked up in life, right? Okay, maybe not so true. I  _am_ here saving your soul. But seriously, I'm dead and stuck in purgatory, and I need something to keep me from losing my mind. Besides, Artzs is friggen' annoying. Hand."

It wasn't a question, it was a command. Sayid grabbed Ana Lucia's hand, feeling the familiar tug of the spirit's teleportation.

o O o

**The pine wreath on the door fell off as Kate slammed it closed, the bells attached clanging as it hit the ground.**

**"God damn you, Jack Shepherd! You disappear for three weeks and show up at my door high as a fucking kite! And on Christmas, of all nights. How dare you!" Kate's angry shouts resonated through her spacious home long before Sayid could see her, hardly welcoming them as they settled onto the living room couch. He could not help but notice the pile of overdue heat and electric bills sitting on the table, as well as the receipt from a Utah rehabilitation center with a hefty price tag. Secretly, Sayid wondered how long she would be able to keep her home.**

"Happy Christmas 2007. Also known as tomorrow," Ana Lucia muttered, sinking into the worn, stained couch cushions, her feet resting on the coffee table.

"Ana, what am I—"

"Just pay attention," she commanded. Sayid knew better than to question.

**"Where the hell have you been Jack?" Kate demanded.**

**"Thailand," the doctor slurred in response, grasping the door frame to keep himself from falling over.**

_Jack mentioned on the island that his father was an alcoholic. Perhaps the doctor has vices other than a hero complex…_

**"You know, Kate. Visiting an old friend. Hoping the plane would crash."**

**"Too bad it didn't," Kate snapped back. "How many pills you pop while you were at it, Jack? You get them from your Bangkok whore?"**

She emerged from the doorway, coming into Sayid's line of sight for the first time. The bags under her eyes were evident, even though she had only just hit thirty. Dark circles encapsulated the bags- it was clear she hadn't slept in weeks. Her collar bones jutted out from under her skin, and Sayid was grateful to remember that the woman was planning to go to dinner on Penny's boat. It would likely be her first decent meal in weeks.

Jack stalked away from the door after her, swaying and stumbling over his feet. He'd gained weight, no doubt about it, but not from overeating- he had a definite beer belly. Jack's beard was unkempt, his hair long and scraggly. Had Sayid been in desperate need of surgery and Jack was his surgeon, he would have picked his sorry, sick ass up out of the hospital bed and walked out.

**"What did you say Kate?" Jack asked, grabbing her by the arm and turning her around roughly.**

**"I said it was too bad that plane didn't crash while you were on it. You'd be gone, and we could all move on. You'd be** **_dead_ ** **, Jack, and I could rest a little easier tonight knowing your pathetic ass won't come stumbling to my door at God knows what hour looking for a place to detox!"**

**"You don't mean that! You love me! You know you love me Kate!" Jack was shaking Kate hard, the woman's head wobbling like a bobble-head doll. Sayid watched in disbelief. It had always been obvious on the island that, though Kate may have harbored a crush on Sawyer, her true feelings were for Jack. He was a different man when Kate was around. A better man.**

**Not now.**

**Kate slapped Jack hard across the face. "Don't you dare go there Jack. You've lost that right."**

**Out of nowhere, Jack shoved Kate backwards, sending her sprawling across the coffee table. She landed on Sayid and Ana's laps, though she obviously did not know this.**

Sayid sprang up off the couch, outraged. "How dare he! What right does he have to touch Kate like that?" Sayid screamed in rage, charging towards Jack. Bracing himself, he attempted to tackle Jack, hitting him hard with his shoulder. He fell right through Jack's body, landing on the ground, never touching the doctor. "Damn it Ana, let me kill him. Right here. I'll give him what he deserves, taking the woman he loves for granted like that."

Ana laughed dryly, bitterly. "Oh yes, let you fight him. Are you getting self-righteous on me now? Weren't you the one who said that Jack was Kate's problem now? What were the words you said this afternoon? Ah yes, 'You chose this life. No one chose it for you.' Didn't you say that Sayid?"

He froze, the words running through his head. He knew they were his own; he could remember saying them, shouting them over the phone. Ana stood and offered a hand to help him up. "I know you Sayid. The Sayid who spared me on the island would never have allowed Kate's call to go unanswered. What changed?"

_The entire game has changed, Ana. Ben and Widmore changed the game._

**From upstairs, a toddler's piercing wail erupted. "Oh my God, Kate…" Jack whispered, suddenly sobered up, if not physically, then most definitely mentally.**

**"My baby is sick, Jack. You know I can't bring him to the doctor. You know what'll happen if they do a blood test. We depend on you for one damn thing. To take care of Aaron. Where the hell have you been?"**

**"Kate, I can fix this…"**

**"Get the hell out Jack."**

Sayid stared, shoulders slumped, at the scene before him.  _I could have changed this. I could have stopped Jack, could have made sure Aaron got help._

"You get it now Sayid?" Ana asked softly. "Time to move on to our next Christmas."

o O o

The humidity was the first thing that hit him when the landed. There was nothing like that in LA. The palm trees swayed gently. The beach was white and clean, with no sign of the fuselage remnants and small community that once existed there.

"Where are they Ana?" Sayid asked softly.

"They can't stay in the open anymore. The Hostiles, you see, and the Dharma Initiative. They're up against a lot here. The two forces hate each other, but both see those you left behind as a threat. The situation's been pretty bad."

Sayid felt his eyebrow raise. "Dharma Initiative? Those were the movies we watched in the hatch. They were from the seventies."

"Nineteen seventy-three, to be exact. Nadia and I argued over who was actually going to take charge of this Christmas. You know, it _is_ 2007 now. But for everyone left on the island, it's not. When Ben moved the island, it didn't move physically. It moved in time. I told Nadia that, but she insisted that it was my responsibility to cover Christmas 1973 on Craphole Island. Follow me!"

Ana led him along the familiar trek to the caves. The path was overgrown now; the distinguishing markers left by Hurley and Charlie to ensure no one got lost were gone. He thought they would stop at the caves, but those were bypassed as well, abandoned.

"Just a little farther," Ana reassured him. A little farther translated into a twenty minute journey, then forty minutes. They passed the site where Shannon, Charlie, Boone, and the others had once stood listening to Danielle's distress call. In the distance he saw something dark rise up.

"That's our destination. I don't know that you ever traveled out here, but some of the others may have spoken of it…"

**The ship looked incredibly out of place in the center of the island. Molding and decaying, he knew it had to have been from the colonial era, or maybe even older. And it was here he saw the first signs of life.**

**Familiar long, blonde hair came into view, sitting in the grass with a gun in hand. She was watching, waiting. Suddenly she stood. "Stop there!" Juliet cried, aiming the gun at Sayid and Ana**.

Sayid stopped.  _How did she see us?_

" **Oh my God, Jin!" Juliet sprinted out of the grass, embracing the Korean man. His face was grim. "We thought you were all dead."**

" **They… they kill Bernard," Jin said, stumbling slightly over his English, but all-in-all speaking much more fluidly than Sayid had ever heard him.**

Not that he was very concerned about how well Jin was speaking English. Jin was  _alive._  He hadn't been blown up in the freighter explosion, he'd somehow managed to survive. "You must bring me home now!" Sayid demanded of Ana. "I must tell Sun. Jin's death devastated her. She had a little girl, she's been raising her alone. Ji-Yeon has a father and she has no idea."

"How you gonna do that, Sayid? You didn't even bother to listen to Sun's message on the answering machine all the way through. Did you even bother to write down her number before you erased the message?"

Once again he felt himself overcome with shame at his action.

**"How the hell are we going to tell Rose?" Juliet asked softly.**

**"I will… I will find a way," Jin replied. He moved toward the entrance of the ship, leaving Juliet to continue keeping guard.**

"Follow him," Ana directed.

**Jin entered the boat up the rotting gangplank. Opposite the entrance, a skeleton smiled a toothless grin, hanging from shackles that had rusted eons ago. He looked around him, observing the people left behind. Charlotte and Daniel, the two from the freighter, were huddled together, looking worse for wear. Daniel's arm was wrapped protectively around the woman, though both he and Sayid knew that, in a fight, the fiery red-haired archaeologist would be slightly more dependable than the physicist. Miles was not far away, grumbling and whining.**

"He hasn't been able to speak to the dead since the island moved. It's nigh on three years now. Needless to say, he's a bit peeved. Apparently he can't tolerate real people He's gotta harass the dead," Ana explained.

" **Rose!" Jin called. From above, there was a clamoring, and she appeared climbing down the ladder. The two shared a look, and no words had to be said. She knew that the worst had occurred when Bernard did not stand at his side. Jin had returned alone. Rose's shoulders shuddered, tears filling her eyes. Charlotte rose, gently pushing Dan's arm off her shoulder. Though Sayid remembered her as being tough and able to conceal her emotions, he watched as the young archaeologist pulled Rose into a tight embrace, holding the older woman as she sobbed.**

Sayid felt nothing but pity and sorrow. Rose was a good, sweet woman. She was kind, looked out for the others on the island like a mother. Through his grief over Shannon, he'd watched as she was reunited with Bernard, a joyous, momentous occasion despite the grief felt amidst the mid-section survivors. Bernard- there was a good man as well. Determined to get off the island, to live in peace with his wife. It seemed cruel that they should be separated now.

"There are so few of us left here on the island," Ana said softly. "Bernard was one of the best. Do you see it Sayid? They're not even trying to survive anymore. It's more a game of waiting for death." She paused. "There's more to see." With a nod of her head, she indicated that he should climb to the next deck.

**Still inside the berth of the ship, the second floor was much darker. Only candles and sunlight streaming through the dusty porthole windows provided any light to the room. A woman sat on the bed, staring aimlessly into space. Blonde, petite, young- she looked as if she had seen a world of pain in her few short years of life.**

" **Mamacita, I got lunch for you!" a forced cheerful, heavily accented voice called down from the deck. Clomping down the stairs, Sawyer's face appeared. He no longer carried the look of disdain and contempt he'd thrown at Jack, Sayid, and even Kate. Sawyer was the leader now.**

" **Thanks Sawyer," Claire whispered quietly, her Australian lilt still evident.**

**He placed the plate of fruit down in front of her on the bed. She stared at it blankly. "You gonna eat it, Barbie?"**

" **Maybe later," she replied, looking around the cabin aimlessly. "Not really that hungry today."**

" **You ain't been hungry the past couple days. What is this Mamacita, you on one of those crash course diets like Kate Moss?"**

**Sayid watched as a smile spread across Claire's face, which in turn made Sawyer smile. The southerner indicated that she should move over, and he moved to sit next to her on the bed. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"**

"Now there's a change," Sayid said.

"A reluctant one," Ana added. "Sawyer never wanted to take control. Leadership was forced on him, but he's stepped up. So many have died since you left, it's taken a toll on him. He's a different man. I think we all change when we realize that there's no hope."

" **It's his third Christmas, Sawyer. His third sodding Christmas without his mother. What does he think of me? That I abandoned him? That I didn't want him?"**

" **Claire…"**

" **I want my baby back Sawyer!" she sobbed. "I want all the lost time. I want to celebrate Christmas, I want to hide Easter eggs for him to find. It's not bloody fair. I want Aaron back."**

**Sawyer pulled Claire into his arms, letting her sob into his chest. He looked up at the roof, as if looking for God to give him some divine inspiration- something to say, something to do, something to save them from their imminent demise on this island.**

"Ana, is Claire ever going to see Aaron again?" Sayid asked solemnly. "Is there no way to rescue those we left behind?"

He turned to receive her response, and saw her chewing on her lips, hesitant. "I can't tell you for certain. I'm the present, not the future. But if the course of history is not changed, Claire will not live to see her son again."

"Can we not change it?" he asked, a hint of desperation edging into his voice.

"That's up to you Sayid. We can't force you to change." She held out her hand. "Ready to go home?"

He nodded, taking her hand. Sayid landed on his back, the soft mattress buckling gently under his weight. A new sense of determination overcame him.  _I can change this. I_ will _change this. There's still hope, this can all be fixed. Tomorrow morning, I will go see Kate and Jack. I will go to Penny and Desmond’s. There has to be a way to get back to the island, to save the others before it is too late. We will not abandon them._

Sayid slid off his bed, standing to fix the blankets so he could finally sleep. He had to prepare for tomorrow, to fix the wrongs of the past three years. To his surprise, he came face-to-face with a black, hooded creature. There was no face. No visible signs of humanity. Just a long, floating, black shroud enveloping air.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come had arrived.


	5. The Devastation of the Future

"So you are the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" Sayid asked softly, mystified by the apparition before him. It was tall, though the black robes fell close to the figure, suggesting a gaunt frame. 

The ghost did not respond to his question, only nodded.

_ Something is not right here, _ __ Sayid thought. _Nadia and Ana were the first two ghosts. This should be Libby, or Michael, or Eko, or…_ He could bring himself to finish the sentence. It hurt too much to add her name to a list of potential ghosts. That was final, and he didn't want finality.

"Who are you?" he finally asked. The ghost did not move and made no noise. "Will you not speak to me?"

The shoulder shrug he received from the ghost revealed that he would be drawing his own conclusions on their journey into the future. No other-worldly omniscient advice and mocking this time, only his own brain.

One black-clad arm stretched toward Sayid. He stepped toward it with baited breath. 

"I am ready to learn all I can from you, my friend. I cannot change the future until I know what I'm fighting against."

He grasped the figure’s arm, feeling a thin, bony wrist beneath the cloak. Curiosity got the best of him, and he moved to remove the hood that hid the face beneath. If there was a face to be revealed, that is. Before he could, though, he felt himself ripped away, and he was forced to grasp the sleeve with both hands, hanging on for dear life.

o O o

The small apartment was entirely unfamiliar to Sayid. Landing in the brightly colored front room where a re-run of an old television drama was playing, he was enshrouded with a cozy warmth. In another room, an older woman's voice rose up, singing as she completed chores around the house. Peeking out the window, Sayid realized that he did not even recognize the local in which he had arrived.

On top of the faux wooden television cabinet sat two photographs. The first was of a somber blonde boy, about fifteen or sixteen, wearing a school uniform and standing before a drab gray backdrop. A school picture. The second was a woman, only a year or so older than the boy, pale with unnaturally brown hair, beaming at the photographer.

Moving closer, he could see the woman was incredibly familiar. If he just changed the color of her hair, added a few years to her age….

** The apartment door slammed, and the older, wrinkled woman exited the back room. "Hello Aaron, how was school today?" **

** "Fine" the boy mumbled. **

** "Sweetie, what's the matter?" the woman asked. **

** "Nothin'" the boy replied testily. **

** The woman smiled grimly. "Aaron, I know this is a change, but we can work this out. We're your family. Your ** **** **_ real _ ** **__ ** ** family. We can make this work, but only if you’re willing to try." **

** "You're not my family!" The boy reared around, flinging his backpack across the room. It hit the television set with a thud, knocking the picture of Claire down. **

** Brusquely, the woman clambered over a love seat to retrieve the photo. The frame had been smashed, half the glass left in a pile on the floor. **

** "You could have a bit more respect for your poor, dead mother," the woman scolded harshly. **

** "She's not my mom. My mom is alive, and when she gets out of prison, she's gonna come and take me home to Cali. Where I live." **

Sayid stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend how Aaron could be a high school student. "How could we have not returned to the island yet?" Sayid asked the ghost, even though he knew there would be no response. "How could we abandon them? We _promised_ them."

The ghost shrugged, and Sayid understood instinctively that he should continue to watch the scene before him.

** "Blood tests don't lie, Aaron Littleton!" the woman shouted. **

** "THAT'S NOT MY FUCKING LAST NAME!" **

Sayid was shocked by how quickly the fight escalated, not to mention the boy's apparent lack of respect. However, when he thought back to the scene he’d witnessed at Jack and Kate’s a few hours earlier, it only made sense.

** "Go to your room. Now young man!" the woman shouted. **

** "Fine. At least I don't have to see you there!" The boy stomped down the hallway, making sure he slammed the door hard. The woman sat down on the couch, crying over the broken picture frame. **

The ghost indicated that Sayid should follow the boy. Striding down the hall, he cracked the door to the boy's room wide enough that he might slip through. The first thing that caught Sayid's eye was the distinct sparseness. There was a bed, properly made, a television, a dresser, and a desk. There were no posters, no dirty clothes strewn across the floor, not even a half-hazard attempt at hiding a dirty magazine. Aaron's room was meticulously neat for a teenager.

The ghost perched, almost demurely, on the bed watching the scene play out. Sayid continued his exploration. _Why is Aaron not with Kate? How could Jack allow Claire's family to discover the boy's existence? Our whole cover is blown; the true story of 815 must be out. Everyone involved is in danger…_

It didn't sit well with him

** A cell phone rang, the steady beat of a hip-hop song, loud but muffled, resounding from the boy’s backpack. Digging through the back quickly, Aaron pulled the device out. "Hello?" **

** "Aaron? Aaron, sweetie, it's mom!" Sayid could hear Kate's voice clearly, even though the phone was not on speaker. She sounded older, wearier. **

** "Mom, I miss you. I hate it here. When can I come home?" **

** "Aaron, listen to me, closely. You need to leave Carole's home immediately. Take all the money you can find and get away now," Kate's voice was urgent. **

** "Mom, what-" **

** "Sweetie, dad is dead. Drug overdose. At least that's what they're claiming." **

** Aaron's lip began trembling, and Sayid desperately wanted to talk to the boy and comfort him. "Mom, that's three of us. What are we gonna do?" **

** "I know. I know it is. That's why you have to do exactly what I tell you. Get on the first plane out of Australia. Come home to LA and take the train to Phoenix. Just outside the city there's an old air force base. You take a taxi there. There's a shack, kind of beat up and broken. That's the last place Sayid was living. Whatever happens, you make sure you convince him to help you. Don't listen to any of his bullshit, and don't dare leave that base without him. This whole God damned mess is his fault. I called him… I begged him…" Kate's voice trailed off into sobs. **

Sayid turned to the ghost quickly. "I will help him, right? Please, tell me I help him!" The spirit shrugged again, completely nonchalant.

** "Mom, why are you crying? What aren't you telling me?" **

** Kate took deep breaths, and Sayid heard her counting to five, just as Jack had once taught her. "They're executing me tonight. For the murders. Widmore bribed my attorney, got him to blow the trial. They won't appeal." **

** "Why didn't you tell me?" **

** "What, and let you walk right into one of Widmore's traps? No way in hell, baby boy. Listen to me, Aaron. You take care of yourself. Do whatever you need to do to stay safe. Sayid is the only one who can protect you now." **

** Aaron paused, and then bluntly asked "Are you my real mom?" **

** "No," Kate sighed. "Claire Littleton is. We tried so hard to get back to them, to get back to the island but-" **

** "Is that where Sawyer is?" **

** "How-" **

** "You talked about him in your sleep," Aaron said softly. **

** "Do what I told you, Aaron. Be safe baby boy. I love you." **

** "I love you too mom," he replied calmly. **

Sayid watched, wide-eyed in horror, as the teenager threw a bag together without any hesitation or thought. Aaron was clearly used to running away, packing only the most essential belongings. Clothes, money, a picture of his mother, fake passports and- Sayid had to blink twice before he accepted what he was seeing- a handgun.

"What happened to the Oceanic Six? What did my actions cause, spirit?" he begged.

o O o

The television set snapped on, fuzzy black lines filling the screen. Aaron did not notice it, and it did not stop him in his preparation to leave. The ghost pointed at the television, a finely manicured pink nail pointed at the screen. Sayid moved to grab the hand, but it was quickly withdrawn. Intently, he watched what was playing before him, the scenes like old footage from a home video.

** "Dude, where are you taking me?" Hurley's voice emerged from the television. Sayid saw Hurley being led down a pure white hallway and up a flight of stairs at Santa Rosa by a man whose face was covered by a hospital mask. Farther and farther up they climbed, finally reaching the rooftop door. **

** "Hey, patients aren't allowed up here. What's going on?"  **

** Hurley was confused, and sounded a bit scared as he was led through the door. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, without any wind. It was a perfect California day. The masked man led Hurley to the edge of the roof. **

** "Dude, stop! I want to go back to my room." Nearer and nearer they moved to the edge, six stories above the rest of the world.  **

** "I said stop!" Hurley began fighting back, pulling away and flailing his arms. **

** With a hard shove the doctor sent Hurley flying over the side of the building. Pulling out a cell phone, he clicked on his contacts, selecting 'Widmore.' **

** The scene changed to a Korean office building. Behind an antique brown desk, Sun sat typing on her computer, every once in a while emitting a sigh of stress. Her once pure black hair was beginning to streak with grey. Sayid watched as the door to her office opened slowly, without so much as a creek. The man never entered the room, only lifted the gun level with the back of her head. As she furiously pounded on the keyboard, Sun did not see the man pull the trigger.  **

** She never even saw it coming. **

"Stop!" Sayid shouted, his heart broken and aching at the scenes unfolding before him. "I get it. Widmore is hunting us down. He hired someone to switch Jack's pills, to make sure Kate got the death sentence. But what about Aaron? Will he make it?"

The little boy had left the room while Sayid was watching the images on the television. The screen buzzed again, an image of an airplane flying.

** Aaron sat comfortably in business class, keeping his head low, a baseball cap over his eyes and his collar popped. It had been surprisingly easy to get a last minute seat on the flight to LA. **

** "Have I showed you pictures of my grandson yet?" the old woman who sat next to him asked, pulling out a pile of pictures. "You are his spitting image!" **

** Suddenly the plane began shaking. Sayid recognized the signs. It looked like was turbulence, but he knew it couldn't be. **

He turned to the spirit, begging, "Please no, not Aaron."

** The plane was shaking back and forth, back and forth, the wind tearing at the wings. Chunks of metal and wire fell outside, splashing into the ocean, while carry-on luggage fell from the overhead compartments, hitting passengers. Aaron was gripping the sides of his seat. "Not again," the boy muttered. "Not again, not again." **

** Then the airplane nosedived, straight into the ocean. Panic erupted inside the metal tube, the flight attendants frantically trying to calm the screaming passengers. Somewhere on the plane, a baby wailed. Momentarily it rested on the surface of the water, seemingly undecided as to whether it would sink or float.  **

** Then it went under, inching towards the bottom of the Pacific somewhere between California and Australia. **

** This time there was no chance that a mysterious island would save them. **

Sayid grabbed the ghost, shaking it hard. "Why do you make me watch this?” he demanded. “I was willing to change, after I saw the present Christmas. Why must I see this now?" 

The black hood fell back, revealing shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes, filled with fury and sadness. "You need to see what your actions have caused, Sayid. I didn't want to do this to you, believe me! This is the second time I've had to watch these memories and it gets worse as times goes on."

"Then why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why Shannon?"

"I've seen what you've become, and it's disgusting. And that's a lot coming from me. I know I was a bitch. I was a self-serving, greedy bitch. You were one of the good guys. You were supposed to be one of the heroes. Look at what you've become! If this is what it takes to ensure that you don't destroy the life you've been lucky enough to keep, then I'll gladly do it!"

"Shannon, I…" Somewhere inside, he'd known it was her all along. She would be the one to force him to realize the consequences of his actions. "Why did you not reveal yourself like Ana and Nadia did?"

She frowned. "Do you know how hard it is being here, knowing that once I knock some sense into you I have to leave again? To know that this is the last time I'll see you before you die? I thought that if you couldn't recognize me it would be easier. I don't want to lose you again." Bowing her head, looking slightly embarrassed at her admission, she slipped the black robes off.

He understood all too well. "It's just as hard for me, Shannon. Never doubt that a moment. You are always on my mind."

"You need to stop that Sayid. I've been dead for three years. It's time to move on... See, now you've got me distracted! I have to show you more, you know," she continued. "On the island."

"They're still alive?" he asked, hopeful. Without giving an answer, she grabbed his hand, pulling him away.

o O o

They landed not far from the spot where she died, which did not go unnoticed by the duo. The woods were calm, but an unfamiliar smell engulfed him, causing Sayid to gag. "Don't worry, it can't hurt you," Shannon muttered, pulling him along.

"What is going on?" Sayid asked, coughing hard. It felt like his lungs were going to burst.

"I believe you've heard of the Purge?" she asked softly.

** "RUN!" Sawyer's heavy accent resonated along the path. "Where's Juliet?" **

** They appeared, the few that remained, running as fast as they could manage. Sawyer, Claire, and Jin looked only a few years older than they had during the present Christmas. It was obvious that sixteen years had not passed. **

** "She wouldn't leave Rose behind!" Claire shouted, her Australian accent as heavy as ever. **

** "Shit," Sawyer muttered, knowing that the two women were probably already dead. **

"What year is this?" he questioned Shannon. "And where are the rest? Miles, Charlotte, and Daniel?"

"1978," she replied. "And they were killed long before. Miles was shot while on guard duty. Sawyer took care of his killer right after. Charlotte and Daniel died together, planting a bomb in the Hostiles' camp. It detonated too early, before they could get away."

He took in the information slowly, contemplating each of her words. Tentatively, Shannon took his hand, squeezing it hard. "We need to follow them."

** Jin stopped running, a coughing fit overtaking him. Hands on his knees, he struggled to catch his breath. "C'mon Chewy!" Sawyer shouted, jogging back to the Korean man. Claire waited, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She too was struggling to continue breathing. The poison smog was quickly overcoming them. **

** Jin rambled on in Korean and English, an incoherent mix. Gesturing, he flailed his arms, indicating that they should keep running without him. **

" **No Jin, we're in this together!" Claire shouted. "We're gonna get you back to Sun. She needs you!"**

" **Go! Run!" Jin shouted louder, clearly, before collapsing to the ground. He began convulsing. Claire stared horrified, unable to turn away from the scene. Sawyer was better able to contain his emotions, though his eyes were clearly filled with grief. He grabbed Claire's arm, pulling her along behind him.**

" **Where are we going?" Claire asked. She didn't ask her true question.** ** _Where are we going to die?_**

" **Dunno Mamacita. The caves?"**

** Claire gave no opinion, and continued to follow Sawyer. They reached the caves, and without pausing, plowed into the stone structure. Carefully, they made their way through the formation, minding the larger stones and dips in the ground. **

As they followed, Sayid felt his stomach sinking deeper and deeper. This felt all too familiar; an event he never witnessed, but had seen the aftermath of almost thirty years later. He knew that this was the end of their story on the island.

** Sawyer and Claire reached the back of the cave, where a small inlet had been carved out over years of erosion. The back of the caves looked more like a small outpost, with a bed, a small vanity, a table and chairs. Everything a person needed to survive for a few days. Sayid had seen this too, except it had been falling apart, decaying. ** ****

** "Do you remember when we set this up?" Claire asked softly as Sawyer lifted her into the crevice. "When we thought it was safe to live here?" **

** He nodded in affirmation as he pulled himself up next to her. They scooted to the back. "So we die here?" she asked. **

" **More likely than not, darlin'," he replied solemnly.**

** She grimaced. "I always thought I'd go in my sleep. It seemed much better than watching death come for you." **

" **Nothin's stopping you Mamacita." Sawyer was pretending he didn't care, but Sayid could see it. Sawyer and Claire's relationship had evolved much farther than anyone could ever have anticipated, just as his and Shannon's had. The Southern man cared too much; the ambivalence was a farce.**

** Claire leaned over, kissing Sawyer firmly on the lips. "You should sleep too. I think it'd be easier that way. Trust me." **

** He followed her instructions, already weak from the gas fumes, pulling Claire over so she lay on his chest. They both closed their eyes. Sayid watched as, slower and slower, their hearts stopped beating, Ben's deadly poison taking control. **

Two bodies, curled together in the cave. Sayid could not tear his eyes away, even as Shannon pulled on his hand. "By the time Widmore started killing the Oceanic Six, everyone you left behind was already dead for twelve years. Twelve freekin' years, and you were continuing a cover story you didn't need." Shannon stated bitterly. Sayid kept staring at the corpses.

"Haven't you seen enough yet?" Shannon hissed.

"We found their bodies, didn't we? Adam and Eve, isn't that what Locke called them? We found them the second or third day on the island. We couldn't figure out where they came from, how two bodies ended up in the cave." Sayid asked solemnly, already knowing the answer. "We were looking at our own people. The corpses of people that were standing _right there with us._ The signs have been there all along."

Shannon turned him around to face her, her hands cupping his face. "It can still be changed. It's not too late. You can fix this. The bodies we found in this cave don't have to be Sawyer and Claire. They can just be any two people in the world, Adam and Eve. But not unless _you_ change the future."

"How do I die?"

She frowned, walking away from him. "No. We are not going there."

"That's the last memory isn't it? My death! Shannon, you must tell me," Sayid insisted. He had to know.

"You shoot yourself! There! Are you happy now? You make it a few years after Aaron's death, but you get depressed. The guilt starts building up. And one day, POW, you off yourself. I got to see that one too; do you want me to describe the blood and brains all over the air force base? The patterns it made on the pavement? Because I can!" She was sobbing now, tears falling down her face.

"Shannon…"

"I'm dead, you can't fix me Sayid. But you can save yourself. You can have a life, everyone can. No one else has to die. Not for a long time."

As Sayid held her crying, shaking body, he felt himself being pulled away back to his home.

o O o

Sayid hadn't expected her to remain when he arrived in his bedroom. Ana and Nadia had been gone already. Yet Shannon was still there, sobbing in his arms, just as she had after Boone's death. He led her to the large bed, sitting her down. Had she been alive, he was certain she'd be in the midst of an asthma attack. Death, at this moment, seemed to have its advantages.

Taking deep breaths, she slowly calmed down. Using the sheets of his bed, she wiped the tears away. "I'm sorry. I'm the Ghost of freekin' Christmas Yet to Come. I'm supposed to hold it together."

Sayid felt himself smile, despite all he had seen. "I am going to change things, Shannon. I will make it right."

"You better. You have to make me proud."

Pulling her up into his arms, he kissed her hard, infusing all the passion, love, desire, and angst he had felt since death. Neither of them had ever gotten their one last kiss, and given everything he'd seen tonight, there seemed to be no better time than now to remedy that. And when he let her go, despite the fact that she was a ghost and didn't need air to function, she was breathless.

"I don't want to leave you, you know," she whispered. "There was a reason I had Nadia show you that memory of me. The one of me in the Nutcracker. Sayid, I may be a spoiled little rich girl, and compared to most of the people I met on the island, my life has been a bed of roses. I still have my demons though. I never felt like anyone really loved me. And then I met you, and even though we were only together a few weeks, I'd never felt more loved and protected in my life. You're a good man, Sayid Jarrah. Everyone deserves a second chance. Don't blow it. Cause they'll call me out of purgatory again, and I'll be pissed. You got that?"

He laughed. "I get it, Shannon. I swear to you I will fix things."

Shannon kissed him again. "I love you Sayid. Don't you ever forget that."

Squeezing her, memorizing the feel of her body against his, he held her momentarily before letting her go. "I love you too."

Then she was gone, and he was holding air. But he could have sworn he heard her words hanging in the air as she disappeared.

_ You will see me in the next life… _

And somehow, he knew he would. But he had a mission to complete in this life first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the pairing in this chapter needs a bit of an explanation. I am a HUGE Suliet shipper, but that pairing never dawned on me til it actually happened (and then I was all "oh HELLS YES" and angry at myself for not thinking of it sooner or picking up on hints). So I went with a bit of an oddball pairing, considering who was left on the island (and given that this was written in 2008/2009). And that is how this story ended up with a very tiny bit of Sawyer/Claire.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I finish copying this story over from FanFiction.net, I must give credit where credit was due. The idea for this story came from the spectacular Diornicole, for the Lost Secret Santa Gift Exchange in 2008. Diornichole was one of my favorite Lost writers/theory sharers/Shayid shipper back in ye olden times, and though I haven't heard from her in many years, I'm forever grateful for her giving me the idea for this story!

The shrill bell of his digital alarm clock filled his ears. Six AM already, the night was over. Looking closer, Sayid saw the date: December twenty-fifth.  _They did it in one night! The ghosts, they somehow did this. Christmas isn't over, I still have time to change things._

Jumping out of bed, he was ecstatic to see the new day. He was alive, they were all alive, and there was a chance.  _I can fix things. There's still time._ Quickly, he threw on jeans and a button down shirt, the closest thing he had left that would be deemed respectable for a dinner party. Sayid doubted he would make it home again before Desmond and Penny's party.

 _I_   _must call Kate. There's no way I can get in touch with Sun now, she's probably just flying in._ Running, stumbling clumsily over everything in his path, he moved toward the phone in the living room.  _Shit, I didn't write down the number. Maybe if I go back through my received calls…_

He missed it at first, so distracted with the telephone that he hadn't thought to look. But there in Nadia's neat handwriting on a pad of paper with the letterhead from her job were the words "Kate- 555-9340. I love you."

It was early, much earlier than he presumed Aaron and Kate woke up, but he called anyway. Something deep within told him that it was absolutely imperative that he get back to Kate.

Fingers dashing over the numbers, he heard the dial tone ring, over and over. No answer. Hanging up the phone, he dialed again.  _No! I will get through to Kate._ Another failure.  _Where is she?_

Finally, the fourth time, Kate picked up. "Hello?" she sounded weary.

"Kate? It's Sayid. I must-"

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"I must apologize to you for my words yesterday. I was… I was thinking only of myself and of my grief. I forgot myself. I am your friend, and you should be able to depend on me. Can you ever forgive me?"

The other end of the phone was silent. "Kate, please. Let me help you. You can't imagine how ashamed I am of what I've done. It's unforgivable. Tell me what you need me to do, and I will make it happen."

He heard her try to speak, only to have her voice crack. She was crying. "Thank God, Sayid. If you hadn't gotten back to me today, I would have had to bring Aaron to the doctor. Jack is out wandering again. I think he's out in Griffith Park. He's probably hung over. Please talk to him, make him listen. If he walks out on us, I can't get help for Aaron… the hospital will find out he's not mine.

"I _will_ find him Kate. He will see reason. Once we are done, I will bring him home, and we'll take care of Aaron. Do you plan on going to Desmond and Penny's?"

"Yes, I was hoping to."

"Good!" Sayid exclaimed. "I will drive us there. We'll need to pick up Hurley as well. I will see you soon."

Kate sighed, she was clearly relieved. "Thank you, Sayid. It means a lot."

"Live together, die alone, right?" He was almost jumping now, full of an energy and vitality that he hadn't felt in years. Everything was new again, and with this chance to help Kate, he felt as if he was starting over.

"Sayid, it's gonna take some time, you know."

"I know. Our island family needs to be rebuilt. Let me find Jack. Goodbye."

Hanging up the phone, he grabbed a light jacket, wallet, and his car keys, and began his search for the doctor. He did not even lock the door on his way out.

o O o

He found Jack throwing up next to a fountain in the center of the park. Luckily for him, the only people there to witness his fall from grace were two homeless men wrapped in plastic bags and newspapers and the early morning joggers. As he lifted his head and wiped his mouth, Sayid was shocked as to how accurate Ana's depiction of Jack the night before had been. His beard really was long and graying, and his beer belly bulging.

"What the hell has happened to you, my friend?" Sayid asked, approaching the fountain where Jack was hunched over.

"Whadya want?" Jack muttered, looking up. "Shit, Sayid, is that you?"

"Yes, Kate asked me to find you."

Jack frowned. "What does she want now?"

"She's worried about you. Said you were slowly killing yourself and asked me to talk to you. What has driven you to this?" Sayid kept his voice soft and calm, afraid that he'd startle Jack or send him running. He never imagined that he'd see the man like this. The calm, collected doctor who disdained the lengths his father had fallen in his own life had mimicked history.

"We have to go back and she doesn’t believe me. I've been trying to get back. Every damn time I get on a plane, I just pray it crashes and we find them. She's not happy with me, she wants Sawyer. She'll never be happy until he's rescued. And Claire is my half-sister, you know. I left _my own sister_ back on the island!" In all this grief, there was almost a new humanity to Jack. He wasn't the hero; he was fallible. "And I feel like, if we don't go back, something horrible will happen. But Kate won't listen to me. She doesn't believe me."

"I do," Sayid replied softly. "Last night… well, never mind what happened, but I know now. We must go back to the island. I believe you."

Jack's face was filled with almost child-like awe, to know that someone was actually on his side. "How do we convince the others?"

"We will tell the tonight, at Desmond and Penny's dinner. Together, we can convince them." Sayid extended an arm to him. "But first, your nephew is sick. You must help him."

Jack grabbed Sayid's hand to stand. "What's the matter with Aaron? How sick is he?"

"Kate did not say. If we leave now, though, it will give you time to figure that out before we go to dinner."

"What are we waiting for then? Let's go!" Sayid pulled out his cell phone to call Kate and let her know they were on their way.

He was halfway to redemption.

o O o

Sayid spent the day with Kate, Jack, and Aaron at her home, watching over the little boy. His fever had gone down drastically right before they arrived from the park. After checking his nephew over, Jack determined that it was only a mild form of the flu, and now that his fever had fallen, was nothing to worry about. Had he been left without treatment, however, it could have been much worse.

Sayid saw the guilt in Jack's eyes- not only had he abandoned his nephew, but the woman who was watching over Aaron in his mother's place. In watching their interactions during the afternoon, Sayid felt more assured that Jack and Kate would work out their problems. There would be no reason to send Aaron back to Australia or Kate to prison, though Jack still probably could use some time in rehab.

And if the gleam in Kate's eyes when Jack wrapped an arm around her as she prepared lunch for the three adults indicated anything, their relationship might still stand a chance as well.

o O o

"Wait here, I'll go get Hurley," Sayid said, exiting his car. "We didn't part on the best of terms last time I saw him, I must apologize."

"Seems you're doing quite a bit of that lately," Kate shot back knowingly, half a smile on her face.

Sayid smiled back, though the words did sting.  _It's your own fault, but you realize that now. That's what the definition of 'fix' is. It means repairing the damage and living up to the faults._

Entering Santa Rosa for the second time in two days, he ran into the nurse he'd shoved when he ran from Hurley. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"First, I must apologize for yesterday. I was… distraught, to say the least, when I left here. Second, where can I find Hugo Reyes?"

She smiled. "He's in his room right now. Visiting for Christmas?"

"No, he'll be joining my friends and me for dinner. I believe this was arranged prior?" Checking over her books, she nodded in reply.

"Ah yes, it's right here. Let me just go get him for you." Sayid thanked her, and waited patiently for her to return with Hurley.

Sitting in the waiting room, he watched anxious families happily reunite with their loved ones. Some of the reunions were a bit sadder than others, and there were some patients that stared jealously, knowing that they would not be having any visitors. The different nuances in each individual's expression flabbergasted him- all his life he'd been trained to watch people, but today it felt like he was seeing them for the first time.

"Dude, what are you doing here? You still bugging out?" Hurley followed the nurse downstairs, giving the small woman a bear hug and wishing her a Merry Christmas before she returned to work.

"Hurley! Merry Christmas! No, you were right! I'm sorry for not listening to you! Everything you said was true! I saw Ana, and Nadia, and Shannon last night! They all came just as Charlie said." He trusted Hurley to keep this to himself, knowing that the other man would never divulge what had happened to another soul.

"Dude, are you shitting me?" Sayid felt his eyes widen at Hurley's less than typical language. "It's about damn time someone else noticed the dead wandering around besides me. What happened?"

"Have you ever read A Christmas Carol, Hurley?" Sayid began, walking slowly out to the car, giving him time to relay the entire mysterious story before they rejoined Kate and Jack. Somehow he doubted they were ready to hear the entire tale yet.

o O o

"I didn't think you would come," Sun said softly, embracing him tightly. She had brought little Ji-Yeon, a beautiful black haired baby girl, just about a year younger than Aaron.

Sayid wanted to tell her so badly that Jin was alive. Still, he had no evidence, no proof but a ghostly image that her husband was alive, so he resigned himself to just convincing her to return to the island.

Desmond was dancing around the cabin of the boat, good-humored and happy for once. Sayid imagined it was Penny that brought this out in him, for that was how Nadia and Shannon had changed him in their time together. The Scotsman had hidden the bottle of whisky he'd been planning to force on everyone after Sayid had a brief word with him on the deck regarding Jack. Penny was the perfect hostess and a talented chef, serving a meal of epic proportions.

"I know. But some friends helped me to realize that this was where I needed to be. We are family, Sun. I forgot that, how important that is."

She smiled mysteriously, knowing there was more to the story, but she did not press for details. Penny was calling everyone to the table.

As he settled into a seat between Hurley and Sun, Sayid couldn't help but look at those around him. He had been so close to losing them, his  _friends_ , as unlikely as it seemed. But they were friends – no, family- and they had to protect each other, to look out for each other.

Which was why, before Penny could even begin serving, he stood up and said, "We have to go back."

Through the choruses of "what the hell's" and "why's", Sayid held up his hands, begging them to allow him to finish.

"I… I have had a lot of time to think lately. About the island. About those we've left behind."

Their faces looked incredulous, except for Jack's, who looked relived that finally someone other than him was bringing this topic of conversation up.  _I have to lie. They're not ready to hear about ghosts and seeing the future._

"Ben came to me," Sayid said. It was half true. Ben had come to him, but not about the island. He wanted people dead. Nonetheless, the excuse would work. "When he moved the island, he moved it in time, not in space. That's why Jack, for all his trying, cannot get back. The island has been sent to 1973. And if we do not get back there within the next five years, everyone we left behind will be dead."

Sun's face dropped, Kate looked like she wanted to cover her ears and sing loudly to drown out the words, but instead counted to five softly. Hurley's eyes bored into Sayid. "Charlie's been trying to tell me that all along," the man whispered.

"In 1978, an event called the Purge occurred. Ben used a poison gas to kill all those in the Dharma Initiative, allowing the Hostiles to take over. This gas will kill those we left behind as well if we do not stop it. We have to go back."

The table was silent, awed, until Desmond stood. "I hate the idea of going back, but we can't leave the others for dead. I'm with you, brother, in whatever way you need me."

Jack and Penny nodded in agreement. Sayid looked at Kate, knowing that she would be the hardest to convince. She was frowning. "Fine. But for Aaron. He needs Claire, I can't raise him forever. It's too dangerous for him, especially if I get locked up again."

"That's not gonna happen Kate," Jack said softly, taking her hand. Sayid could see there was still a lack of trust between the two, but they seemed closer to forgiveness. Hurley and Sun quickly added their agreement to go back, each with eyes looking far past the walls of the boat they sat upon, thinking of those they lost on the island.

It was determined. They would return.

"Well then," Penny said quietly. "Now that that's settled, why don't we enjoy Christmas dinner. We all deserve one night of happiness before we throw ourselves into danger again, don't we?"

And though he wanted to pull out maps and start buying the weapons he knew were going to be absolutely necessary to protect them on the island, Sayid settled back in his chair and helped himself to a heap of mashed potatoes and a hunk of turkey.

There was a chance, there was hope and happiness and love, and there was forgiveness.

o O o

Meanwhile, back in 1973 (where, dear reader, it is happily noted that  _none_ of our faithful survivors had been killed), Sawyer sat lazily in the crow's nest of the Black Rock, feet kicked up onto the half rotted wood of the boat. It had been a Christmas miracle- the Hostiles and the Dharma Initiative had finally taken a day off from their endless fighting. Finally, a day where no one would have to stand guard duty and worry about having their head blown off by those two groups of idiots.

 _Fucking hippies…_  he thought, flipping through the pages of a four year old copy of Playboy.

Below decks, the ship, for once, was bustling with life. No bated anticipation of death and murder. The Little Mamacita, who had returned from Jacob's cabin only a week or two after the departure of her son, finally seemed to be coming alive again. Sawyer had to admit, he'd been looking out for her especially. Things had changed between them since the loss of her son. Today, Claire had joined Bernard and Rose's celebration of Christmas, where the trio was determined to make some sort of gift for each of the survivors.

Sawyer had even managed to get an embarrassed smile out of her when she handed him his gift of the magazine he read now, when he told her that he would much prefer it be  _her_ posing in the bunny ears. The Mamacita was too cute for her own good.

That had also gotten him a firm scolding from Charlotte, who was packing a picnic lunch for her and Daniel. Not that they were going far- she'd called shotgun on the poop deck for the day. Literally, called shotgun, which reminded Sawyer of the way things were back in the real world. Not that there was much of an argument. Last he saw of the two, they'd been carrying far too many blankets up to the deck for one picnic. It was the reason why he refused to leave the crow's nest. He didn't think he could bear to see  _that much_ of the crazy physicist.

Juliet had been drinking from a bottle of rum, trying to get any and all who were around her as wasted as she was. "It's Christmas!" she'd giggled gleefully, an entirely new side of the former Other for Sawyer to see. "What else would we do?"

She'd succeeded in convincing Jin, who spent most of his time pining for his wife and wondering what his daughter looked like. Having spent too many long hours on guard duty with good ol' Chewy, Sawyer couldn't help but respect the man. After four or five shots, the Korean man was the most relaxed Sawyer had ever seen him. He heard Juliet downstairs, attempting to teach him the Twelve Days of Christmas. "What better way to learn English?" she'd screeched drunkenly.

 _If only it was always like this. Tomorrow it'll be right back to the hiding and the terror. Enjoy your day off, hero,_  he thought.

Hero. Now there was a role he never wanted. That was for men like Jack and Sayid and Locke. But there he was, picking up where Jack had left off, leading those who got left behind. Claire had told him once that she felt safe with him. That had been a surprise, though he could honestly say he was pleased at the words.

"Yo Sawyer!" Miles had emerged from below decks. "The high school groping session on deck is over. It's safe to come down now."

Captain Ghost Hunter always knew. Without fail, he always could figure out what Sawyer was thinking. It annoyed him. Precariously lowering himself down onto the ladder, he skipped the last few steps, and jumped onto the deck. Miles was off in his own little world again, chatting gleefully to someone Sawyer couldn't see.

The Asian man had been jumping around in excitement all morning. "They're back! They're back! About damn time!" he'd shouted, before settling into one of the crevices, laughing at an argument that remained unheard by the rest of the survivors.

"Wait, you convinced him to come?" Sawyer heard Miles ask as he passed him. "There's really a chance now?"

Sawyer didn't know the response, but Miles was grinning.  _Crazy, just damned crazy._

And as he strode down stairs, determined to find some sort of Christmas gift for Claire, he heard Miles laughing again before he started rambling to the invisible people.

With a roll of his eyes, Sawyer mumbled, "God bless us, everyone."


End file.
